Walk With Me Through Darkness
by JessicaDwyer
Summary: It's years after the events in OUATIM, a young woman has tracked down her fathers killer and has found herself in a nightmare world that may consume her...and awaken ghosts a man thought long dead. Read and see :)
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone except Tara and any original characters. (sigh) No I don't own Agent Sands, AKA Johnny Depp..that honor goes to some gal in France. No I don't own the Mariachi, AKA Antonio Banderas.that honor goes to Melanie Griffith. Oh man what a sandwich that would be huh??? Oh yeah...(slap) Oh sorry about that.dreams of peanut butter and jelly. Grape jelly.gah.grape jelly and Johnny Depp.nummy num num (slap).  
  
Okay so this is my first attempt at an OUATIM fic. I have no idea if this is any good. If this intrigues you, please leave feedback and I'll continue. I promise some interesting stuff and all kinds of angsty goodness as our girl is sucked into the darkness of our favorite fallen agent.  
  
They called him Dead Eye.rumors swirled about why he got that name, but she had discovered the truth. As grisly and painful as it was, she knew how he got that name. A few years ago, during a semi-revolution in Mexico, he'd tangled with a powerful cartel. Their punishment to him was to rip out his eyes, in a not so friendly manner. Even with this happening, "Dead Eye" was able to take down some of their soldiers as well as kill the head of the cartels daughter. The rumor was she was his lover and had betrayed him.  
  
The legends around the mystery of the man were varied and some where just insane in their over the top nature. But she knew the truth. She'd talked to a man who was there, who had seen it happen, or at least most of it.  
  
That had been four years ago. The mysterious "Dead Eye" had a base of operations in a town not too far out of Mexico City. He had his own crew and had a varied list of money making enterprises that he did. From hiring out his men to do hits, running prostitution, to pot smuggling.  
  
And here she was getting ready to walk into the proverbial lions den. She'd been setting in her car for the past forty five minutes.trying to get the nerve to drive the rest of the way up to the gate and push the buzzer to open it. All these years.she'd been looking for this man, all these years trying to figure out a way to get her revenge. And now she was scared?  
  
She took a final drag off of the sweet Mexican cigarette she was smoking and tossed it out the window of the car. The damn things were addictive as hell, and she wondered not for the first time if Dennis Leary was right, and they did put heroin in the filters. She'd only started smoking about a year ago and wasn't sure about how easy it would be to quit as she used to be.  
  
Popping a piece of licorice gum in her mouth she started the car and drove up the rest of the graveled road to the large, black electric gate that dominated the front of the mansion. She stopped at the speaker box, her eyes looking up at the tall gates. She knew they were charged with a good dose of electricity, and if touched they could quite possibly kill whoever was that stupid. Taking a deep breath she pushed the call button, a feeling of unease wrapping around her tightly.  
  
A half minute later a heavily accented voice came out of the speaker, "What do you want?" was the gruff response.  
  
"My name is Tara Cunnings.I'm here to see your boss." She replied, in a steady tone of voice. She was proud of herself. Her voice didn't break in complete nerves.  
  
The brainiac on the other end of the line forgot to turn off the microphone or whatever it was, and Tara clearly heard him and another class act talking. "Did the boss order a whore tonight or what?" he spoke in Spanish. She could make out some mumbled reply to the extent of "I dunno.looks like it's just some bitch.let her in.we'll keep her in line."  
  
Tara seethed inwardly, but she'd let it pass for now.  
  
"You can come in seniorita, be ready to be searched though." The first man said through the box.  
  
"Muchos Gracias." she replied and then under her breath, "asshole." The gate opened slowly and Tara drove through it. The compound was large and reminded her of the movie Scarface.only not nearly as gaudy and overblown. It was taken care of and all along the front area different kinds of roses and lilacs, lilies and shrubs grew. The scent of flowers wafted through her open window as she made her way up the drive. There was a fountain in the center of the circular driveway, the water lit from beneath. The house itself was large and looked to be 2 stories tall with God knew how many rooms. She saw that there were some houses behind it, no doubt for the goons that Dead Eye had as his crew and the staff that ran this place.  
  
Tara parked her car at the entrance and turned it off. She saw that two large Mexican men, each with a shoulder holster were waiting for her at the entrance. She grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car.  
  
"Ola." She said nodding to them. One came forward and held out his hand for her back pack, the other came closer and told her to face the car. She figured she'd be frisked, but she didn't like the thought of this jerk touching her. She did as told and the guy took his own sweet time, making sure to check her ass at least twice with a couple of rough squeezes. She'd remember him later, if she got the chance.  
  
Goon number one handed back her bag, satisfied there was no gun or any other weapon in it. She looked inside to make sure everything was still inside it before following them into the house.  
  
The entryway was large and carpeted in a deep burgundy. The staircase was massive and had two stairways that came down on either side. Flashes of Scarface came back to her and she wondered if there was some perverse hero worship going on here. Goon number one motioned for her to follow him up the stairs. She noticed the distinct lack of pictures or anything on the walls. They were all bare, the wallpaper the same deep burgundy as the floor, with a white trim.  
  
Tara clutched her bag to her tightly, licking her lips. She couldn't get nervous now.this was what she'd been working for. If she was right about this guy NO DOUBTS! Her mind screamed at her.you can't doubt it now. She had worked too long on this, tracked him down. If he wasn't who she thought he was, she was screwed and she wouldn't be walking out of here, most likely. She took another calming breath and concentrated on the large bulky back of goon number one.  
  
The hallway was long, and like the rest of the house bare of any mirrors or pictures. It made the whole of the place eerie and empty feeling. The end of the hallway finally came, and she was met by a set of double doors, coal black with silver handles. There was a buzzer on the side and goon one pushed the button. A moment later the doors opened and Tara was walked into the room beyond.  
  
There was a sense of darkness in the room, even with the windows open. A kind of gleaming black all around, it was like walking into the great gaping maw of a hungry beast.  
  
As her eyes adjusted, she made out the shape of a man standing next to a desk. As she got closer she saw he wasn't so much a man as a kid of about 18 years of age. He had dark hair and eyes and his face was set in an expressionless stare. He didn't even seem to blink as they came to a stop in front of the black monster of a desk.  
  
The leather office chair had its back to them. When the man who sat in it spoke, the voice was soft, but Tara could tell this was a guy on the edge. There was something in the tone that made a shiver go up her spine. "I hear you wanted to see me."  
  
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "That's right." She replied.  
  
He turned the chair around to face her and her eyes widened a bit in surprise. The man was younger than she expected, he had be at least 40 from what she'd read, but he looked younger, no more than 30 or so. His hair was shoulder length, straight dark brown, maybe even black. He had on sunglasses, dark ones that hid everything and gave him an air of complete mystery and more than a bit of menace. His lips were nice she noted, and then shook herself from that train of thought. He was dressed in black and his skin, in what light there was, looked pale as if he didn't get out into the sun that much. He was wearing black leather gloves on his hands, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. He tilted his head slightly, a smirk barely there on his face.  
  
"Care to tell me why?" He asked. He could hear the nervousness, even in those two words she had spoken. She was scared...he liked that. He had no idea who this girl was, or why she was here, it was good to keep her afraid. If she let something slip, he'd know it in a heartbeat.  
  
Tara decided to hell with it, honesty was the way to go with this guy. She had no reason to lie to him. He'd probably know if she was anyway, she wasn't very good at it. "It might be prudent for your boys here to leave before I say what I have to say."  
  
She heard goon one make a grunt behind her and the young guy actually had a flicker of something in his eyes. The man in the chair's eyebrows raised slightly behind the shades. "It must be something quite interesting then."  
  
"I'm sure it will be to you." Tara told him, her voice serious.  
  
The man paused. She waited while he was most likely debating on killing her or listening to her. After a few seconds he told the two other men in the room to leave. The younger of the two hesitated and the man whispered something to him in Spanish. The kid lowered his head as if chastised and left, giving Tara a look filled with dislike. She gave him a hard glare back, not backing down to a punk. Goon one followed him and with a resounding thud the doors shut and she was alone with the man in black.  
  
"Have a seat sweetheart." He motioned her to the chair that was to the right of the desk.  
  
She sat down warily, wondering half jokingly to herself if this was some sort of ejector seat or trap door chair. She placed her bag on the floor next to her and took out the file folders she had in it.  
  
"I'll begin with the introductions I suppose." She said deciding to get to the point. "My name is Tara Cunnings, my father was an agent with the CIA for twenty years."  
  
The man in the chair flinched just barely at the initials of the agency. She noticed and continued on. "He was assigned to Mexico 3 years ago to watch the workings of a drug dealer who was becoming a force to reckon with. Eight months after being on assignment, we stopped hearing from him. Not only him but the three other agents assigned to the case."  
  
The man in the chair was silent, taking in all she said. She took another breath and continued. This was the part that would interest him. "About a month after the search began for them, the bodies were found in an abandoned hanger 50 miles outside of Mexico. Each agent had been tortured to the point of nearly being unrecognizable. My father though, was the special case. He'd had his eyes ripped out, while alive. They had kept him that way for awhile. Then they did some more inventive things to him, before finally shooting him eight times in the chest."  
  
She looked over at her silent host. It was hard to read the expression of a blind man, she decided to herself at that moment. But by the set of his jaw she could tell he was digesting the information slowly.  
  
It was then that he spoke, and when he did his voice had lost the smarmy edge it had held before. Now it was pure steel, hard and cold. "What does this have to do with me Miss Cunnings?" his lips barely moving above his steepled fingers.  
  
This was it.time to tell him her theory and pray he didn't decide to just kill her. "I was about ready to enter service with the Agency myself when all this happened. But after my fathers death I decided to hunt down the bastards that had done this. The Agency was dragging their asses, and they weren't even following up the leads right in front of them. I had copies of all of my father's data he had collected and started following my nose. It brought me down a very dark road. I also discovered something that I think the CIA has known for awhile, but for some reason have decided to not do anything about."  
  
"And what would that be?" The voice spoke from the chair.  
  
She leaned closer to the desk, to make sure he heard this part. "The man who killed my father and those other agents was supposed to be dead a long time ago. He was the leader of one of the most powerful cartels in Mexico at one time, and if everything I have discovered rings true, he still is.just very quietly. You should know the name Mr. Sands.the guy used to be known as Barrillo." 


	2. Chapt 2 Getting To Know You

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone except Tara and any original characters. (sigh) No I don't own Agent Sands, AKA Johnny Depp..that honor goes to some gal in France. No I don't own the Mariachi, AKA Antonio Banderas.that honor goes to Melanie Griffith. Oh man what a sandwich that would be huh??? Oh yeah...(slap) Oh sorry about that.dreams of peanut butter and jelly. Grape jelly.gah.grape jelly and Johnny Depp.nummy num num (slap).  
  
Okay so this is my first attempt at an OUATIM fic. I have no idea if this is any good. If this intrigues you, please leave feedback and I'll continue. I promise some interesting stuff and all kinds of angsty goodness as our girl is sucked into the darkness of our favorite fallen agent.  
  
Extra thanks to those who reviewed part 1 and enjoyed it. MORE REVIEWS PLEASE!! I'M A REVIEW WHORE!!! GIVE ME!!! Here is part 2.  
  
It took Sands about five seconds to digest the fact that, 1. She knew his real name, and 2. She had just told him that Barillo was still alive. These two facts did not make him a happy man.not by any stretch of the imagination.  
  
Judging by the sound of her voice, he knew how close she was to him. In the next heartbeat, he reached over the desk grabbed a hold of the fabric of her shirt front and pulled her onto the top of his desk with one motion of his arm. In his other hand he held a gleaming black pistol with a silencer attached to the muzzle. She'd barely had time to cry out before the point of the gun was pressed against her temple.  
  
"Well.this wasn't going well." Tara thought to herself as she tried to breathe again, her eyes staring up at the unseeing blackness behind the sunglasses he wore.  
  
"You've got my attention honeybunch." He said in voice near a whisper. The sound made her go totally still. "So how about you tell me how you know my name?"  
  
Tara didn't try to grab hold of his arm, she merely answered him. "The file there in the floor."  
  
Sands weighed the smarts of letting go of her, and decided she'd be stupid to try anything. Plus the fact his boys would have checked her for a weapon. He released her slowly, keeping the gun pointed at her. "Go get it." He said, "But don't try anything. Never underestimate the handicapped."  
  
Tara let out a breath and with deliberate steps walked to where the file lay on the floor. She picked it up; making sure everything was in order. She placed it on the desk in front of his chair. "It's there in front of you." She said softly.  
  
He had been ready to hit the button for Chico to come in and look at what she had, when she spoke again. "It's in brail."  
  
Sands stopped his hand in mid-air. "Thought of everything didn't you?" he said, his full lips in a half smirk.  
  
"I figured you wouldn't want some of these things known by anyone else.just in case." She told him with an unnecessary shrug.  
  
He'd learned brail over the course of the first year of blindness. It was a bitch, but he wasn't an idiot. That was one of the traits of Sheldon Sands, he learned quickly. He'd been a near genius in school. That was why he was so good at what he did. He had a hell of an intellect and he knew it. He also knew people, knew how to figure them out within the first few moments of meeting them. And he used it to his advantage. The only one who ever threw him a curve was the woman who had cost him his eyes. She'd underestimated him in the end though, and it had cost her a lot more than just her sense of vision.  
  
Sands motioned for her to sit down again. He heard the chair's slight creak and knew she had done just that. He took his own chair behind his desk and placed the pistol within easy reach. He felt the file in his hand and opened it to the first page. Removing his gloves he picked up the first sheet of bump covered paper and began skimming his fingertips over the surface.  
  
This page was a fairly detailed history of himself and his career in the CIA. Even some of the stuff not a lot of people knew. Stuff he'd been ordered to do on the sly with no one keeping real tabs on how he got it done. Then it came to what had led to his seeming downfall in Mexico. The fact the CIA had thought him dead. Then came the part about his new little kingdom and how he'd made the name for himself under the moniker of Dead Eye. Very apt name he thought. He'd picked it himself. The agency still had no idea who Dead Eye was, and he knew how to keep it that way. But this girl was a surprise.a real surprise and a wake up call. If she had figured it out, then so could they at some point. He'd have to grill her on how she'd done this great of job at digging up details and putting two and two together.  
  
"You did your homework on me honeybunch.how'd you get all this detail?" He asked her. She was good, real good to have pulled this off, and ballsy to boot. To just show up at a place like his and confront a known killer. That took some church bells. She wasn't stupid.she couldn't be to be up for the position of an agent, if that part of her story was true.  
  
Tara cleared her throat, her fingers nervously playing with her shirt tail. "I had heard stories about you from some of my father's team. You were a kind of legend after what happened."  
  
Sands lips curled into a cold smile. "A legend huh.Always wanted to be one." He said.  
  
Tara swallowed. Her mouth was dry again. "I was always convinced you hadn't died. After reviewing your file and digging around, I knew you weren't the type to let that stop you. I knew if anyone could help me and had a reason to want to help me it was you. I followed the little bit of a trail I had and found someone who had been there the day of the revolution."  
  
Sands nodded. He knew who she'd spoken with. "Jorge." He said.  
  
She stopped herself from shaking her head yes. There was no point. "He's the one. You probably already know he died in a house fire two years ago."  
  
His head came up to face her and she got that feeling between her shoulder blades again, like he could see her as plain as day. "I didn't have anything to do with that by the way."  
  
She smiled sadly. "I know it wasn't you Mr. Sands. It was the other man that is covered in that file."  
  
He wasn't used to his name being used. It was odd and he didn't like the Mr. at the beginning, it made him feel old. "Cut it with the Mr. crap." He told her, flipping to the next page. "If you have to call me by my name, then only when we're alone and just Sands." He faced her again. "If you ever, ever call me Sheldon.I'll shoot you." He was serious and she knew it.  
  
Tara was a little shocked by the remark.not the shooting part. She could totally understand hating a name like Sheldon and he was a sociopath.she would never doubt a threat from him. No, it was he part about "only when we're alone". She didn't know what it meant, and it made her nervous.  
  
Sands sensitive fingers began the task of reading the next section of the file. He grew even more quiet as he took it in. Barillo.the name made him want to vomit. It made images flicker in his head, images of the last things he'd ever truly see. And sounds.sounds of a drill like machine, loud against his ear mixed with mocking laughter. The name bombarded the senses he had left, even that of touch. Because that name was connected to Ajedrez's forever.  
  
He'd been so stupid.so fucking stupid. But she'd been so warm and beautiful. All steel and heat and she'd done a number on him. He'd always remember her body, her face.especially her face. He'd dream it in the night and somehow his subconscious mind would know exactly what she looked like when she had died from his bullet. It always made him wake up with a smile when he had that dream.  
  
And here in front of him was proof that her fucking father was still alive. He should have known. That bastard was tough and he had friends all over Mexico. This girl had done her homework alright. He had no reason to doubt it, and he'd the rumors about a man behind the scenes on a lot of heavy shit going down. He'd never have guessed the crazy bastard was still breathing. He wasn't sure how he'd pulled it off. By what Cunnings had come up with, it sounded like one of his men had found him barely alive on the ground of the presidents building. The fucker pulled through, with a newly attached face and a broken body full of bullets. He must have been on some good shit, that's all Sands could figure.  
  
When he came to the descriptions of what happened to the agents, including Tara's father he stilled. It was eerily familiar territory. Barillo was still the sadistic bastard he'd ever been apparently. The agents had been gutted like fish, a couple hanging by their intestines, probably while alive. Her dad had had a real job done to him.his eyes taken just like his had been. The shit he read made his own blood run cold. This was just pure butchery, for the sake of the slaughter. At least when he killed someone there was a reason for it. And it was quick.well unless they had really really pissed him off. Being tortured tends to make you have a softer touch.  
  
When he was done, his face turned to her again. He could hear her breathing quicken. She was still afraid.smart girl.  
  
"So.what do you expect me to do now?" He asked her, leaning back in the chair.  
  
Tara didn't expect that question. She sat up a bit straighter and thought for a moment before answering. "Well.I thought you might want to help me."  
  
"Help you do what exactly Ms. Cunnings?" He steepled his fingers, tapping them against his lips. "You know you have put yourself in a very unhealthy position here. Any smart person in my place wouldn't let you out of this room alive. You know far too much about me for both our own goods."  
  
Tara nodded. "I know that Sands." She replied, "But I also know some things that weren't in that file about our mutual friend Barillo. I also know that you would like to see this fucker suffer as much as I do. Not only that, but I know you can be a truly mean bastard when you have a mind to do so. Well.I can be a real crazy psycho bitch when the feeling strikes me." Her voice was steady, and her blue eyes blazed in the dark of the room. "I loved my father Sands, he was in fact all I had. I don't like being fucked with...and this mother Barillo has pissed me off. Do you want to help me take his sorry ass down or not?"  
  
Sands smiled. 


	3. Chapt 3 Ladies and Gentlemen

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone except Tara and any original characters. (sigh) No I don't own Agent Sands, AKA Johnny Depp....that honor goes to some gal in France. No I don't own the Mariachi, AKA Antonio Banderas...that honor goes to Melanie Griffith. Johnny should have won the Oscar, but here's to next time.  
  
Okay so this is my first attempt at an OUATIM fic. I have no idea if this is any good. If this intrigues you, please leave feedback and I'll continue. I promise some interesting stuff and all kinds of angsty goodness as our girl is sucked into the darkness of our favorite fallen agent.  
  
Extra thanks to those who reviewed parts 1 and 2. MORE REVIEWS PLEASE!! I'M A REVIEW WHORE!!! GIVE ME!!! Here is part 3.  
  
Sands gave new meaning to the word creepy when he smiled. But he was not shooting her, so something must have been going right. Tara waited with baited breath for his answer.  
  
It was an unfamiliar sensation, but Sands liked her. Maybe that was too strong a term. He respected her. She had balls and she was smart. He could use those two traits. He also understood the desire for revenge that drove her. That was something else he could respect and identify with.  
  
It would be easy enough to have her checked out, find out about this father of hers and the whole story she had given. In the meantime she'd not be leaving the compound. There was no way he was letting her leave knowing all she did.  
  
With a nod toward her Sands stood and walked to the side of the desk. "Alright Ms. Cunnings," he said, "Here is what we are going to do. You are going to stay here until I am certain every little detail you just said is true. After I've established that pretty voice of yours isn't lying, then we'll proceed as I see fit." He leaned down until he could smell the scent of her perfume in the air around her. "Are we clear sweet cheeks?" He asked her, his face inches away from hers.  
  
His breath was warm and smelled of whiskey and tobacco. She stayed her ground though, and didn't move away from his closeness. Tara refused to be intimidated by him. "We're clear Sands." Her voice was steady, but she couldn't stop the way her heart was beating faster. The man reeked of crazy. Knowing what she did of his history did not make it easier to be near him.  
  
He smiled again, and she could see the hint of insanity that was just a push away. "Good. I'll get a couple of my boys to show you to a guest room."  
  
Sands moved back his chair and pushed a button. Seconds later Chico and one of the goons came into the room. Sands gestured towards the girl. "Take Ms. Cunnings to the guest room Chico and then come back here."  
  
Tara stood to leave and stopped as spoke to her. "Ah, Tara if I may be so familiar." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "If you need anything please let Bruno here know." He gestured to the goon who in turn gave her a hard stare.  
  
"Thank you Mr. Eye." She retorted, and followed the goon out, Chico following behind her.  
  
Sands steamed for a moment, but couldn't help the smile that spread to his lips. "Little smart ass," he said softly.  
  
The younger man returned a few minutes later, shutting the doors behind him. He found Sands standing, facing out the now open window. He resembled a vengeful specter that Chico had seen years ago, painted on one of the signs for the Day of the Dead, the same day he'd found Sands bloody and sightless.  
  
He knew Sands knew he was there. He waited for the man in black to acknowledge him, which he did a few moments later.  
  
"Is she settled?"  
  
Chico moved to stand a few feet from his mentor. "Yes. She is in the room next to yours."  
  
Sands let out a laugh. "You put her in the Ladies Room didn't you?" The Ladies Room was where those special visitors that Sands would sometimes have over for entertainment stayed. The whores that he deemed fit enough to service him when the need came on.  
  
Chico smiled. "I thought it would be best to keep her close by in case she isn't as she appears."  
  
Sands took a long breath of night air. The scents from the garden mingled together in a bouquet that he adored. It reminded him a bit of the perfume Cunnings was wearing. A mixture of roses and was it jasmine? He wasn't sure. Scent was an important sense to him now, and he catered to it whenever he could, hence the garden.  
  
"I guess your right buddy boy." Sands turned from the window. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, always a good rule of thumb."  
  
He grabbed a glass of whiskey from the desk and took a swallow. He knew his young second in command as it were was waiting for his orders.  
  
"I want you to go and find out all you can on her, every piece of background you can dig up. From where she went to school to what brand of tampon she uses. Savvy?" Sands took another drink.  
  
"Yes sir." Chico replied.  
  
"Find out where she's living around here too, get her stuff and bring it back. If she's legit she's sticking around. If she's not, she's gonna disappear so I don't want a trace of her left."  
  
"Yes sir." The younger man said again. "Anything else?"  
  
Sands placed the glass on the desk and leaned against the wall heavily, tilting his head back he let out a sigh.  
  
"What's she look like?" He asked softly.  
  
Chico was a little disarmed by the question. Sands had asked him to describe things for him before, but never a woman. When the hookers that he used came to the house, he never asked such a thing. It was a strange request.  
  
"Cunnings?" He asked Sands, not sure how to answer.  
  
"No fuck wit, Margaret Thatcher....of course Cunnings." Sands said irritably.  
  
"Uhm...5'7, pale..." Chico began.  
  
"What color is her hair?" Sands cut in. He didn't know why it was important, but he wanted to have a picture of her in his minds eye.  
  
"Reddish brown, it's got some blonde in it, highlights I guess." Chico was trying his best, but he wasn't used to doing this kind of detail.  
  
"And her eyes?" Sands asked.  
  
"Blue, grayish blue." The younger man replied.  
  
"Hmm..." Sands tried to put it together in his head. His imagination was a hell of a thing and he smiled at the image it was creating. "Alright, go on." He dismissed him with a wave of his hand.  
  
Chico turned to leave, just before he got to the door Sands spoke. "Wait a second."  
  
He hesitated, his hand hovering over the door knob. "Si?"  
  
"What about her boobs?"  
  
Chico smiled. "36c's all the way." He replied and then walked out the door closing it behind him.  
  
Sands chuckled softly and poured himself another drink. 


	4. Chapt 4 Ring a ding

The all mighty disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Johnny or Antonio. Johnny still doesn't have an Oscar, and I still don't have Johnny. The lesson here: The world is very unfair. ( I only own Tara and any of the original characters that pop up here and there.  
  
I want to say a big thank you to my reviewers, who have motivated me to keep going with this tale. I hope you like this albeit brief 4th chapter. I'll keep them coming as time allows.  
  
On with the story!!  
  
It was a long night and Tara tried to sleep through some of it. She dreamed and the dreams were dark ones. Filled with images of her father, blood streaming down his cheeks from the gaping holes that once held his warm grey eyes. She could hear his screams and see the faces of the men who tortured him, laughing as they pointed at him trying to pull free from the bonds holding him to the metal table he was strapped to.  
  
She couldn't help him, couldn't move. She was held in place by some invisible force, and she could only watch the horror unfold in front of her. Tara had had the dream before, numerous times, but this time it became a new form of hell. This time the scene before her changed. The scene shifted to a dark, dirty room that was hot as a furnace. She could smell the scents of blood, sweat, and filth, all chokingly strong.  
  
Before her a twisted mirror image of her regular nightmare took place, with only the faces changing. There stood a beautiful woman, eyes as cold as icebergs, her smile even colder. Beside her a man with bandages, dirty and bloody, wrapped around his face. Another man, holding an instrument that belonged to some demonic hospital was coming closer to the figure strapped down in front of him.  
  
Tara saw that the figure was actually Sheldon Sands. He was dressed in black from head to foot and he was scared. He also still had his eyes. They were a rich honey brown color. And right then they were wide with fear. Pure naked terror shone in their depths and Tara felt it right along with him.  
  
Once again she wasn't able to move, she was a forced observer in this nightmare that was no longer her own. And as the man with the drill came closer to Sands she started screaming out for him to stop. She tried to move her arms to grab a hold of him, to make him stop. Right before the mad doctor stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Sands, the man on the table looked at her pleadingly. He saw her, and he spoke. "Please...help me." The words sounded alien coming from Sands, but they broke her heart all over again after having seen this scene played out with her father. And then the doctor was there and the screaming started once more, along with sounds that made her stomach turn.  
  
Tara sat up screaming in the queen size bed, cold sweat covering her skin. She was disoriented and wasn't even sure where she was for a few seconds. After her breathing got under control and she looked around the darkened room it came back to her. She was at Casa Sands, they were checking her out and she was under a pseudo house arrest.  
  
With a trembling hand she wiped her brow. She jerked as the sudden ringing of a phone ripped through the silence of the night. There was a black telephone next to the bed. She picked it up hesitantly.  
  
"Nightmares are a bitch, ain't they honey bunch?" Sands voice came through the receiver, softer than she'd ever heard him speak before.  
  
"How...how did you know I was having a nightmare?" She stammered.  
  
She heard him laugh, but there was no humor in the sound. "I have amazing hearing sweetie, that's what happens when you lose one of your senses." He paused and she thought she heard a clinking sound; it might have been ice hitting the side of a glass. "Even through the wall you sounded like a damn Stones concert on acid."  
  
"You're next door?" She asked him, swinging her legs off the side of the bed.  
  
"That's right." He replied.  
  
He sighed and she heard him take a sip of whatever was in that glass.  
  
"So," he began again. "What were you dreaming about?" He knew what her answer would be, but he liked making her uncomfortable. It was that side of him that liked keeping people on their toes, learning what buttons he could push. He was a sick fucker and he knew it. But hey, the blind guy needed a hobby.  
  
"I'm sure you know," She told him, knowing what he was trying to do. He wasn't the caring sort, not really. He was trying to mess with her. Tara knew him too well after studying him for so long. "You probably have them too."  
  
Sands was silent a moment. "Maybe I do." He said and she felt a chill run along her back at the change in his voice. "But at least you wake up."  
  
Tara couldn't really respond to that. She'd lost someone to the bastards, but she hadn't experienced what he had. He'd lived through what had happened to her father. Truthfully her father was the luckiest of all three of them, at least he was dead.  
  
"Sands..." She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to think of something to say.  
  
"Yeah sweet cheeks?"  
  
"Got any booze?"  
  
She heard him laugh again. Then he spoke into the phone, "Down the hall, last door on the left." With that he hung up. 


End file.
